


Eight Days

by DarthAstris



Category: Star Trek, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Experimentation, Alien Sex, Crossing the Streams, Forced Arousal, Forced Bonding, M/M, PWP with way too much P, Pon Farr, Sick Fic, Star Wars and Star Trek together at last!, What Have I Done, crossover? idk wtf this is, cw for rape/non-con/dub-con depending on your view of pon farr and the ability to consent, does pon farr count as being sick?, vers Hux, vers Kylo, versatile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAstris/pseuds/DarthAstris
Summary: The Star Wars (Kylux) / Star Trek PWP crossover that absolutely no one asked for! (Inspired by this drawing I did while, IDEK, high on crack or something: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418221/chapters/35938827 )Half-Vulcan Hux and half-Klingon Kylo find themselves at the mercy of an unknown race's sexual experimentation program.  When Hux (predictably) refuses to participate, they induce the pon farr.





	1. Day 1

Bright light, eye-watering and unrelenting, burned green behind Captain Hux’s eyelids.  The muffled but rapidly clarifying cacophony of a violent altercation pulled him the rest of the way from unconsciousness.  He blinked and pushed himself up, bringing the unfamiliar room into focus.  _White walls, ceiling, and floor.  Smooth.  No hard corners on any surface.  Perhaps a prison of some kind, then_. 

He braced himself as a feeling of vertigo and nausea swept over him.  The bed he was sitting on, if it could be called that, seemed to be formed of a hard, non-porous plastic, cooler under his grip than the ambient temperature.

Beside him, less than a meter away, three humanoid robots were wrestling a snarling Klingon down onto a similar table.  

 _“QI'yaH! qaStaH nuq jay'?”_ The Klingon swore once more before the injection of a sedative saw his fiery invective reduced to a simmering, mumbled indignation.

Captain Hux agreed with the sentiment, if not the particular phrasing.

_What, indeed, is going on here?_

On instinct, his hand went to his chest, searching out his communicator badge.  It was gone, as were his clothes.  His nudity was a mild shock, but he understood that it was intended to be; a lack of clothing would be disorienting and humiliating, and encourage a more expedient submission in most prisoners.  It did bother him, somewhat – it was _improper_ , to say the least – therefore, he resolved to remain calm and pretend that this forced exposure had had the desired effect upon him.  So far, his captors seemed unconcerned by his return to consciousness; so long as he moved slowly and made no attempt to fight, they might leave him alone.

Pain flared at the base of his skull.  He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the back of his head.  There was no injury there that he could feel, but he found it difficult to keep his thoughts in order. 

_How did I get here?_

He had been with his away team, investigating some ancient ruins on the surface of a supposedly uninhabited planet, when he’d seen a flash of light and felt an immense pressure in his head.  Then, everything had gone dark.

He’d never even heard or seen his attackers.

The three robots turned their optical receptors on him.  Hux held up his hands in a near-universal gesture of peace, hoping they would understand his intention to submit, for now.

They regarded him with what seemed like cautious assessment.  Hux surmised this from their posture and the soft clicking and clattering that passed between them, for he could not understand them, nor could he sense any sentient presence within their shiny metal frames.  Their chittering continued as they angled their heads this way and that, but their voices were quieter now than they had been when dealing with the rowdy Klingon.  Probability suggested that these were not his captors; though likely strong enough to subdue him, they were too noisy and slow moving, their well-worn chassis based on ancient designs.  He would have detected their approach from hundreds of meters away. No, logic dictated that these were merely agents in service to yet-unseen masters.

“I’m not going to fight you,” he said, as one approached with a gleaming syringe, “I only want to know where I am and why I’m here.”

The mechanical being tilted its head in stilted movements again, then hissed a sound like escaping steam at its companions.

“I am the captain of the Federation Starship _Opportunity_ , and I demand to speak with your masters.”

A horrid sound, a high-pitched, modulating squeal like the feedback emitted from a damaged, 20th century radio, escaped from its flashing mouthpiece.  Hux grunted and clapped his hands over his pointed ears until the strident noise settled into a tinny voice, speaking in fluent Vulcan.  “Greetings, Subject One-Three-Four.  Doubtless, you have many questions.  We have found Vulcans to be a most intelligent and inquisitive species.  Indeed, many of us have enjoyed our lives on your homeworld.”

_On my… what?_

Hux’s mind raced to recall any alien species that had ever been permitted to live on Vulcan.  The list was diminishingly small.  Certainly devoid of any race that would have treated him in this fashion.

“We expect that this experiment will conclude most efficiently, despite the inclusion of a Klingon male.  We trust you will have no difficulty subduing him in order to carry it out.”

“You expect me to fight him?”

“Are you not enemies currently engaged in a war?”

Hux considered.  “Technically, yes.  Though this man’s status as a combatant is unclear.  I will not aggress toward him without sufficient reason.”

“That is fortunate.  Logical.  Yes, we foresee this experiment will proceed smoothly, indeed.”

“What is this ‘experiment’ of which you speak? Why are you holding us here, like this?” Hux gestured to his naked form.

“Experimental run four-five-seven-alpha aims to evaluate sexual intercourse between differing species.  Subject One-Four-Three, Vulcan, male, 24, will conclude congress with Subject Seven-Five-Two, Klingon, male, 19.  You will be held here until your mating practices can be adequately observed and evaluated. After successful completion, you shall be set free.” 

Hux balked at the idea, though his expression remained unchanged.  He looked at the slumbering Klingon beside him with something bordering on disgust, though Vulcans did not feel disgust toward anything.  Having caught sight of the Klingon’s rather imposing, diphallic anatomy, Hux chose to re-frame his response more as… disbelief.

 _This is absurd!_ he thought, but his tone remained even as he asked, “For what reason?”

“That information is irrelevant to the parameters of the experiment.”

A lesser being would have been annoyed by such a dismissal, but Hux was not a lesser being, enslaved by his emotions.  He held the robot's gaze for a moment, formulating his response.  When he spoke, his voice was firm, but devoid of anger.  “I object to this treatment. You have no right to imprison sentient beings and force them to participate in such barbaric ‘experiments’ without their consent. I refuse to participate.”

A momentary silence passed.  “Our records indicate that you have a preference for males. Is this... incorrect? Would you prefer a female, or something else?”

 _Records? What— how?_ Hux stared at the robot, fighting to keep his expression from betraying his shock, and, if he were honest with himself, a growing unease that weighed like gravitons coalescing in his stomach.

“I would prefer to be set free.  Immediately.  This is highly improper, and I will be no part of it.”

The robot went quiet again.  Static hissed from its vocabulator for nearly a full minute.  Hux dared to hope that his demands were being considered, but that small hope was soon shattered. 

“This is unfortunate.  Measures must now be taken to ensure your participation.”

In the brief silence that followed, Hux detected a change in the Klingon’s breathing.  He gave no sign of having noticed and kept his full attention on the robot that had been addressing him.

The robot in front of him moved forward with the syringe.  Hux slid off the bed and into a defensive crouch as the Klingon came up swinging, uttering a fierce battle cry and smashing his fist into its head with such force that he dented the outer shell and sent sparks flying from behind its optical receptors.  It fell to the floor with a _clang_ , and continued to twitch and clatter as its gears ground together in fits and starts.  But the droids were faster and more agile than Hux had assumed, based on their antique appearance.  The second one leapt over the table and jabbed the Klingon with a needle again.  He collapsed in a heap just as the third vaulted over both tables and landed behind Hux.  Hux dodged, but the robot met his speed with the advantage of surprise – and, no doubt, much experience in dealing with unruly subjects if his assigned number, 143, meant anything – and Hux once again saw darkness close in around him.


	2. Day 2

“Wake up, Starfleet.”

Hux shivered at the sound of the rough voice so near his face that he could smell the rancid gagh punctuating each word. In the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, a surge of fear overcame him. Had the Klingon heard their earlier exchange? Did he know what was expected of him in order to secure his freedom? Had he raped him while he lay unconscious? Hux drew in a deep breath and centered himself, the mantle of control settling over him as he exhaled. _Don’t be foolish. If you’d been taken against your will by… that… you would have felt it._

Though every nerve screamed at him to jump away, Hux opened his eyes and regarded the young man with a composure that seemed to aggravate him.

“Good morning to you, too.”

The Klingon growled again, which seemed to be the only vocal inflection he could manage, “What’s so good about it, _yIntagh_? Or have you not noticed our captivity?”

Hux sat up, drawing his knees to his chest and folding his arms across them to surreptitiously cover himself.  Pain throbbed behind his eyes.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  “Are you always this insufferable? Or did you think rudeness would lead to a more expedient emancipation?”

A low rumble sounded in the back of the Klingon’s throat.  His muscles tensed and trembled with the anticipation of violence.  “I witnessed you speaking with the enemy, _taHqeq_ ; what were you saying?”

“First of all, my name is Hux.  Not ‘Starfleet’, not ‘idiot’, not ‘traitor’.” He showed no reaction to the Klingon’s surprise, though he continued, “And, yes, I speak your language, you foul-mouthed _petaQ_.”

The Klingon glared at him with a balling of his fists and a snarl that nearly preceded another battle cry, but at the last moment morphed into a thunderous belly laugh.  His wide hands came to rest on his hips as he threw his head back in the thrall of amusement.  “Your pronunciation is adequate… Hux,” he grinned, revealing a mouth full of impeccably sharpened teeth, “I am _Kaylo_ , son of _LeiaH_ , of the House of _Orghana_.”

Kylo’s revelation sent another tingle of worry up Hux’s spine, though it was much weaker this time.  He was awake and in control now, after all. 

_The House of Organa? If our unknown assailants managed to capture a Klingon of such high standing, seemingly without worry or regard to any rescue attempts…_

Starfleet would likewise be disinclined to leave behind one of its most famous captains.  This did not bode well for their prospects of discovery and rescue.

Hux’s finely tapered eyebrows arched even higher.  He found it hard to believe he hadn’t been raped while drugged.  Even among Klingons, Kylo and his brethren were renowned for their viciousness.  Hux decided it would be wise to play to his rival’s ego.  He would need Kylo to view him as a non-threat if he were to get out of this alive and whole.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Kylo, son of Leia.  You have been a worthy opponent on the battlefield.”

Kylo chuckled, baring his teeth again.  “As have you.  Well met, Captain Hux.  It seems we have found ourselves in an unsavory predicament.”

One of Hux’s eyebrows stayed arched, he couldn’t deny that Kylo’s unexpected facundity impressed him.  “Indeed, we have.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

 _Astute, as well._   If he were going to stay two steps ahead of the Klingon, he would have to keep his wits about him.

“I simply inquired as to why we were being held captive.”

“And? Is that what nearly got you stabbed with a needle? You’re welcome, by the way.”

Though Kylo’s attempt to defend him had failed in the end, the fact that he’d done so at all had astounded Hux.  Enemy or not, Kylo had behaved honorably.  His failure to acknowledge the brave act shamed him.  Well, if not _shamed_ , then perhaps _admonished_ was the better word. 

“I… thank you for that.  However, that was not the reason.”  Hux hesitated; he had his suspicions about what the Klingon’s response to the truth would be, and he didn’t want to have to fight him off.  However, Kylo would eventually find out.  Their captors had not attempted to obfuscate their machinations at all.  If he inquired, they would likely tell him.  And if Kylo caught him in a lie, their brief truce would be obliterated.

“Think nothing of it. I just needed to punch something.”

Hux did not laugh at Kylo’s obvious effort at joviality.  He cleared his throat.  “They expect us to mate, in exchange for our freedom.  I refused.”  He couldn’t stop the impulsive flick of his gaze toward Kylo’s genitals. Even flaccid, the two fleshy, ridged members overlapped one another in a daunting display of virility.

A sheen of perspiration had broken out across Hux’s forehead.  He rubbed it away, frowning at the moisture on his hand.

Kylo’s laughter boomed through the small chamber once more.  He leaned back, stretching and sighing as his guffaws wound down into chuckles, and made no attempt to conceal his nakedness.  In fact, he seemed to be displaying it with pride.  “Does this frighten you, Starfleet?”

“Vulcans do not feel fear.”

“Well, you’re certainly feeling something.”

“I’m—” Hux shuddered as another wave of emotion washed over him.  This time it was not fear, but anger, burning hot and leaving a wake of smoldering embers in his mind.  “I’m fine,” he barked, his voice revealing more irritation than he liked. “Perfectly normal. It is no concern of yours.”

“Hah,” Kylo grunted, “I’d say it is.”

Hux felt a sensation he’d not experienced in some time: a rush of heat through him, a tightness in his groin, a slight twitch of his cock.  He drew his knees closer to his chest.

_No. It can’t be that. I should have another 2 to 3 years at least._

Kylo took a step toward him.

Hux glared up at him.

“So they won’t free us until we fuck, is that it?”

He tensed. “So they claim.”

“Then let us do this, and get it over with.” The Klingon took another step forward.

Hux drew his head back, but held his ground, forcing his face into a mask of impassivity. Anger simmered just under the surface, but he knew that a dryly delivered remark would cut more deeply.  “I did not realize Klingons acquiesced so readily to enslavement.”

“It is _not_ enslavement!” Kylo shouted, then lowered his voice to a menacing growl, “I simply want this to be over with so I may return to my people. To the battle!”

“As do I. However, you are not my mate, nor would I ever wish you to be.”

Kylo snorted, “What does that matter?”

“It matters a great deal to me.”

Kylo leaned in, his face uncomfortably close. He sniffed deeply, a lewd gesture that made Hux pull away in disgust. Kylo grinned. “You’re in pon farr.”

Hux’s lips fell open in curtailed protest.  He stared at Kylo.

_How does he know about that?_

He felt a dreaded flush heat his cheeks.

This was humiliating.

No, not humiliating. That was an emotion. Illogical.

It was _wrong_.

There. That was the word for it. Wrong. Vulgar. Incorrect. Not adhering to protocol.

He was _not_ humiliated. He was in complete control.

While he was unclear on the values that Klingons observed in regards to mating, Hux knew that the sexual acts of many sentient species were considered private. That was simple, factual circumstance. To Vulcans it was no different.  Perhaps more so.  Sex required an indulgence in passion, the stirring of urges best kept dormant.  It was inappropriate enough for non-Vulcans to possess knowledge of the pon farr.  It was even more improper to have outside observers, strangers no less, scrutinizing his weakness at a time like this. 

Besides, such an intimate act between enemies could, and would likely, be interpreted by his human crew as a betrayal.  They could not possibly understand the demands the pon farr made upon his body and his mind.  Their trust in him would be forever altered.

“No,” he finally replied, steeling himself for the lie, “No, I-I’m simply unwell. There must have been some alien bio-contaminant to which I was exposed. You could become ill.  You should stay away from me.”

Kylo took a step back, but the look on his face was one of amusement.

“So, you have a mate on your homeworld.”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant, or any of your concern.”

“Hah!” Kylo turned and began pacing the perimeter of the room, casually examining the seamless walls and ceiling. “I’m just trying to understand how a ‘logical’ Vulcan could turn down the quickest route out of here.”

Hux suspected that they would not be freed at all.  Logic dictated, given the tidbits of information he’d already gathered on their captors, that the reason for such detailed observation was so that they, themselves, could be replaced by whatever means these aliens had used to infiltrate their societies.

There appeared to be no method by which they could escape, short of perhaps overpowering whatever beings they sent in to feed them, if they did so at all.  Everything in the room looked as though it were formed out of a single swath of material.  Only the door, recessed into a protective niche, provided any access to the cell.  There were no force fields separating them from their captors, so Hux could only assume that whatever observational devices they were using must be hidden in the little, bubble-like domes that protruded from the ceiling and provided them with light.

He hesitated to voice his thoughts, knowing that they would be overheard by the enemy, but there were no other ways that he could communicate with the Klingon, unless… _No! Not that. Not yet. Preferably, not ever._

“We must devise an escape plan. But it is almost certain that they are observing our every move, as well as listening in on us.”

“Well, there is one way we could get out of this.”

Hux felt the frustration rise in him again.  It was most disconcerting.  But, he didn’t dare tell Kylo that he suspected they were going to be killed anyway, whether they performed for their captors or not.  “I am not having sex with you.”

“ _baQa’_. You Vulcans are more stubborn than even your beloved human pets.”

Kylo crossed to the door and banged on it, haranguing their captors with yet more profanity.  Hux considered trying to stop him, but he was also curious as to what would happen if he continued, so he sat patiently, awaiting the expected outcome.

The door slid -- no, that wasn’t quite right; that was more of a convention of expectation; no, more appropriately, _melted_ \-- open, admitting a much larger robot than they’d seen before.  This one grabbed Kylo by the wrist, taking advantage of his surprise, and injected a sedative that dropped the huge warrior before he could even finish his ineffectual sweep of the mechanical’s ambulatory appendages.

Again, Hux held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture as the robot hoisted a slobbering, mumbling Kylo and once more laid him out on the slab.  Hux noticed that the door remained open during this exchange. The hallway beyond seemed to be sculpted of the same, white, plastic-like substance.  No control panel occupied the space on the other side of the door.  No other sentries stood guard outside, unless they were stationed against the wall, out of sight.  Either there was nowhere for them to go, or their captors were confident that they would not get far.  

The robot turned to Hux when it had finished its task.  It watched him, silently, for a few moments and then turned and left, the door undulating in on itself until it became solid again.  Hux waited and then crept toward the door.  He ran a hand over the smooth, hard surface.  A bit of warmth radiated from the center, where the material last fused together, but the rest of the plastic was cool to the touch.  He pushed against it, testing its tensile strength.  There was no give.  He examined the notch in which the door sat, but saw that what he’d previously assumed to be a groove, into which a sliding door might withdraw, was in fact also an uninterrupted surface that simply dipped in to form the impression of a door.

A lesser being might have sighed his exasperation and given up, but Hux quietly retreated to his own slab and assumed a meditative posture.  He closed his eyes and trembled at the surge of wild emotion that rushed up to meet his preoccupied mind.  He focused on that part of himself which currently required the most attention, and the humiliation associated with the intensity of feeling churning within him.  A languid bead of sweat rolled down from his temple, though the ambient temperature remained quite constant.  He honed in on its progress, slow, like the caress of a lover’s tou— _No!_

Hux shuddered.  He did not want this to be true, but not wanting a thing to be true did not make it less so.  Hope was a human fallacy.  Illogical.

He struggled to settle into a deeper meditation, aware that the struggle itself was counterintuitive to the process.  Still, he had done this before, and he would do it again.

But he’d had help to get through his first pon farr. 

This time, he was alone.


	3. Day 5

****

Four days.

Four days without sleep, or food. 

Four days of miserable longing chasing through his veins, every faint pulse of air that breathed over his skin an accelerant to the flames rather than a respite from his agony.

Kylo had tried to encourage him to eat, but Hux could barely restrain his rage each time the Klingon came near.

If he could but meditate, and calm himself — _Focus!_ — he could get through this.  Waves of feverish heat thrummed in his head.  Distantly, he was aware that delirium had set in.  His heart had never raced so fast in his life.  Not when he’d sat through his exams at the Vulcan Science Academy.  Not even in the midst of the most heated of battles.  He reached up to rub some comfort into his temples and found them gritty with the copper salt of his sweats.

He assumed, due to the amount of complaining issuing from the Klingon, that Kylo had yet to find a way out.  Hux considered it quite possible that he had not yet figured out that their captors intended to kill them once they’d observed enough of their behavior to adequately imitate them.  This was the only logical conclusion Hux had been able to develop over the past few days.  The other conclusion — that he might have to initiate a bond with the Klingon in order to communicate this fact telepathically, so as not to reveal their awareness of the situation to the enemy — sat in the back of his mind, haunting him.  Hux’s refusal to do anything but meditate and attempt to slow the raging impulses flooding through him had the added advantage of giving their captors nothing more to go on, regarding his interactions. 

Perhaps that was why they occasionally interrupted him by releasing nitrous oxide gas into their cell.  He would wake on the table, with little sense of the time that had passed, and the nauseating sensation that they’d done something to him to accelerate the _pon farr_.   Every time he woke, the _plak tow_ raged inside him, threatening to boil his blood.

As if the humiliation weren’t already enough, he could feel the salty crust of tears on his face as well.

They felt on the verge of springing forth even now.

It _might_ have been four days since they'd initiated the _pon farr_.

It could have been more.

With all his systems run amok, he could hardly rely on his internal clock.

It felt like more. 

 _Felt_.

He hated that word.

Feelings.  Useless, noisome, destructive emotions.

Even the hate he ascribed it shamed him.  He should not feel so passionately about it.

He should not _feel_ at all.

The Klingon’s abrasive vulgarity drew closer.  “Stupid  _petaQ!_  Dying is hardly logic—”

Hux opened his eyes to find Kylo’s directly in front of his.  He gasped and lashed out before he’d even processed the movement, his fingers impulsively finding the key nerve points on Kylo’s face to initiate a mind meld.  He cried out in horror, but could do nothing to curb his instincts, nor stop the shared visions of their lives from flashing through their minds.

_Human fathers: one loving but distant, the other cruel and ever-present.  Alien mothers who demanded more of their children than they were capable of giving.  Both striving to satisfy the unreachable goals set before them.  Failing, but trying again.  And again.  And again.  Young boys, beaten until they learned to stop crying and hold it inside.  One, for missing half a point on an exam, the other, for shying away from a pain stick.  Two halves that warred against the other.  There had been no room for their humanity, not in their societies, and not in their homes._

Relief surged through him as half of his emotional burden passed to Kylo, even though the shame for how easily he’d lost command of his body stung him deeply. Regaining a modicum of control, Hux shoved Kylo back and away from him.  Kylo lost his balance and tumbled backward from his crouch.  Hux’s fingertips, cool where they’d met the Klingon’s ridged flesh, set aflame at the absence of his touch. 

Kylo snarled and flashed a wide grin.  He crawled back toward Hux with a lascivious sparkle in his eyes. 

“No!” Hux scrambled backwards, curling in on himself.  “Don’t touch me!”

“You want me to.  You know you do.  I can feel it.”

“No!” Hux shouted, following up with a thought directed at Kylo.  *I only did this so that you could hear me.*

Kylo stopped, arousal momentarily baffled by the clarity of the voice in his head.  *You… Can you hear me?*

*Yes, you fool. Why do you think I’ve done this?*

*Your passion… I can feel it.  It’s in my blood now.  You need me.*

*Stop it.  Stay away from me.*  Hux shivered.  Now there was no way for him to hide his desire, but at least it had temporarily lessened in the sharing.  *I only thought it fair to warn you that they intend to replace us on our respective ships.  Whether or not they will also kill us, or keep us for further observation, I don’t know, but it would be prudent for them tie up any loose ends.  They are most certainly monitoring us, so this was the only way we could plan effectively.*

Kylo's smile widened.  He focused his thoughts so that Hux could hear him, *I know that.  Don’t you think that if they know about your _pon farr_ , that they also know you can do this?*

Fury, like white hot lightning, blazed through him, blinding him with shame.  How could he have wasted such an intimate gesture on this brute? This brute who had apparently out-thought him? How had he allowed his brilliant logic to fail so miserably? Hux sprang from his crouch with a wild shriek, barreling into Kylo and knocking him onto his back again.

“Yes! Give in, Starfleet! Show me that secret Vulcan passion of yours!” Kylo laughed heartily even as Hux rammed a fist into his face hard enough to crack a tooth and snap one of his own fingers.  As he drew back to throw another punch, Kylo twisted to the side, grabbed him by the forearm and yanked him forward, sinking his teeth into the meat of Hux’s palm.

Hux cried out.  His mind had nearly fully dissociated from his body.  A chorus of refusals rang out in his head, loudly enough for the Klingon to hear them as well.  The more Hux felt Kylo’s bliss over this brawl, his arousal at Hux's unquenchable thirst for him, the more infuriated Hux became.  He knew that the Klingon was reading this all wrong: to him, the violence was merely the start of an intimate mating ritual, the more spirited the better.

Frantic, Hux pushed forward into Kylo’s grip, against the joint of his thumb to break his hold, but he’d lost his balance now, and the Klingon had already shifted his weight to roll atop him.  Everywhere the Klingon’s skin met his seared him with such intensity that it burned cold, soothing his need to be touched even as it ignited his humiliation and fear.  He cried out again at the sensation of Kylo’s straining erections against his thigh.  “No! Get off of me!”

Hux could feel how badly Kylo wanted to take him.  Right here and now.  The Klingon flashed his fanged grin and lunged at Hux’s throat, biting in at the ridge of his collarbone.  Hux wailed, pain freezing him in place.  His body yearned for Kylo’s touch, but his mind cried out in despair.  His own considerable strength had failed him, and now he was going to be raped.

Kylo, privy to Hux’s thoughts and feelings through their newly established bond, pulled back in confusion.  Hux desired him.  _Needed_ him.  He could feel it as surely as if he were Hux himself.  And yet, dread radiated from him.  Kylo, despite his own inflamed passions, had no desire to frighten or harm him.  Not like this.  This wasn't the playful sort of pain that he was used to.  Trembling from his own suppressed urges, he slowly climbed off of Hux and backed away.

Hux rolled to the side and clambered away, retreating to a corner of the room.  He curled around his wounds, shaking and sobbing.

Kylo started toward him and opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it.  After a while, he frowned and turned away, moving to sit with his back to Hux.

Even as he cried, Hux could feel control returning to him.  He took deep, hitching breaths, half-sobs that eventually turned to steady inhalations.  Had the fight been enough to drive the _plak tow_ away?

Probably not.  He shouldn't be so lucky.  But for now, it was enough.


	4. Day 8

 

Kylo had watched the Starfleet captain for eight days.  He’d felt the pull of attraction the instant he’d seen the naked redhead laid out on the table beside him, but he had become smitten when the fiery captain had sworn back at him in his own language.  And with better than decent pronunciation.  Hux was lean but athletic, both soft and well-muscled in all the right places.  Kylo had thought him weak and fragile, but, if this infernal bond had taught him anything over the past few days, Hux’s resilience was as strong as any Klingon’s.  His self-discipline was a thing to be respected.

He would be a worthy mate.

Finding himself in the ironic position of having to think, rather than act, while the logical half of his being languished in the corner of the room, Kylo had come up with a plan, but it was looking less and less like Hux would live long enough to help him see it through.  He did not like seeing Hux suffer; a revelation that Kylo had been pondering off and on since he’d initiated the mind meld.

Neither of them had been fed, and what little water they’d received had not been given to them by the robot caretakers, as they’d hoped.  Rather, the side of one of the walls morphed into a sort of funnel, and a section of the floor rose up to become a shallow basin.  Once Kylo had had his fill – Hux refused to break his concentration to drink anything – the room resumed its usual shape.  That was one escape plan dashed.

The only other thing their captors had left for them, during one of their bouts of gas-induced unconsciousness, was a tube of lubrication and prophylactics of varying sizes and textures, which Hux studiously ignored and Kylo earnestly fantasized about.

The Vulcan had settled back into a deep meditation, but Kylo could only sate his need for release with action.  The bond he now shared with Hux had made him burn with the same fevers and inflamed passions.  It wasn’t fair that he should be expected to harbor these urges, yet be unable to do anything about them.  He paced the smooth, white chamber.  Occasionally, he punched a wall or kicked at the door, with or without the accompanying swears.  When that failed to produce any results, he sat on the other side of the table, his back to Hux, and masturbated furiously.

None of those things worked for very long.

In fact, he soon discovered that touching himself disturbed Hux even further.  He could feel Kylo building to his inevitable, and ineffectual, release, which did nothing to calm his ever frantic state of mind.

He could also feel Hux’s sense of self-worth, centered on his sense of logic and self-control, unravel more and more with every passing day.  Physically, his fever burned so hot that Kylo himself had begun to perspire.  He was losing weight; they both were, but Hux was already on the side of too thin.

At times, he let loose a soft whimper: barely audible in the room when Kylo kept his distance, but a virtual shout in his mind as Hux once more sank into despair over the cracks in his restraint.  Even the slightest slump of his shoulders elicited another outpouring of self-deprecation and a whirlwind of anger and sadness.

Kylo worried about him.  More, even, than he worried about himself. 

None of Hux’s thoughts remained private while they shared the immediacy of the bond that had formed between them.  Hux could see the carnal images in Kylo’s mind, lewd imaginings of what he’d like to do to him if he had full reign to ravish him in traditional Klingon fashion: the biting, the scratching, the breaking of bones and licking of wounds.  Likewise, Kylo could see the reflections that stirred in Hux’s mind when he was most aroused: a gentle, refined convergence of bodies, the meeting of two fingers and the touching of foreheads, a sharing of the understanding of each other’s most hidden desires and regrets for having them exposed within such a base, animalistic urge.

When he could no longer stand to see Hux suffer, nor to suffer his own oppressive desires, it was with this uncharacteristic softness that Kylo finally approached him.

Hux looked up at him from behind his knees as he drew near.  Tears streamed down his wan cheeks.  A faint but keening whine, an acknowledgement of his ultimate failure, escaped from behind his folded arms.  Admitting defeat did not come easily for Hux, nor would it have for Kylo; they had more traits in common than either of them had cared to recognize.

Hux was not afraid of death – another admirable quality, Kylo thought – but he did not want to die.  Not like this.

With a control Kylo did not know he possessed, he reached out to gently pull Hux’s arm toward him.  His massive hand easily encircled Hux’s wrist.  He made the traditional Vulcan gesture of intimacy, extending two fingers of his left hand, and waited for Hux to do the same. 

Having expected violence, Hux looked at Kylo, a mixture of confusion, relief, and a tentative happiness on his face.  Kylo was not the beast he’d come to fear.

Not always, anyway.

Kylo smiled and spoke with equal softness.  “It is not logical for you to allow yourself to die in this manner.  Let me help you.  Please.” He hesitated, feeling the conflict begin to resolve in Hux’s mind, then added, “I do not wish to lose you.”

Hux extended two the same two fingers, his hand shaking both from weakness and a fear that Kylo would somehow hurt him in his vulnerable state.  That was a thought he had more difficulty bearing than the fever itself.

When their fingers touched, they both gasped.  The bond ignited between them, burning brighter than ever before.

 _The simultaneous feeling of touching and being touched.  A cooling relief where once flaming agony overwhelmed the senses.  The ecstasy of giving in to pure lust, but, more than that, the profound intimacy of truly_ knowing _one another._

Hux shifted position, allowing Kylo to finally gaze upon his lithe form.  He leaned up, lips parted in timid invitation.  Kylo wasted no time in pushing forward, one hand slipped between Hux’s shoulders to lower him to the floor as mouth met mouth and skin met skin.  Hux embraced him as they kissed, entwining his legs around Kylo’s muscular thighs.  He pressed against him with such raw desire it was as if the physical barriers of the flesh could melt away and join them as easily as their minds had become one.

“Take me,” Hux breathed, his voice roughened by thirst of both kinds.  “I need you… inside me.”

Even as he said it, Kylo sensed his lingering fear that he would be hurt.  Hux, too, could feel the thin veil of restraint behind which Kylo’s bestial nature struggled and rampaged.  It had always been difficult for Kylo to control himself, and sharing in Hux’s _pon farr_ had only made his wild nature more intense.  Hux begging for his attentions made him snarl in delight.  Still, though he panted and strained, he moved deliberately, pushing Hux just far enough away that he could take the time to lube his fingers and trace them around Hux’s twitching rim.  Hux moaned.  Kylo pressed one finger inside while slicking up his other hand and taking hold of Hux’s cock.  It was beautiful in his hand: the bronzed length of him pulsing with desire, flared head emerald green and leaking precum.   

Kylo gathered up both of his cocks and Hux’s in one large hand.  He built up a measured rhythm, caressing the three shafts and occasionally brushing his palm over their sensitive heads, feeling their sticky readiness beaded there.  Pleasure rippled through them both, magnified and reflected on one another through their bond; Kylo felt his finger inside Hux’s soft warmth and the phantom pleasure of having something moving inside of him as well.  He groaned like a Mugato devouring its prey.  Kylo continued to circle his finger around inside Hux, deeper, exploring his Vulcan physiology and seeking out the places that pleasured him most. Kylo slid another in, reaching farther inside until he felt Hux relax enough to take the smaller of his two cocks.

Hux arched up into Kylo’s hand, grinding his hips down onto his fingers.  “Please.  I can’t wait any longer.”

Kylo took a breathless moment to appreciate the fine curve of Hux’s back, the way the beaded perspiration trickled from his flushed chest down between the taut muscles of his abdomen.  Seized by a sudden need, he moved back, letting go of their cocks just long enough to lick the coppery sweat from just above Hux’s navel all the way up to one pert nipple.  Everywhere his tongue traveled, he felt soothing, cooling relief spread through Hux.  The more he touched him, the more pleasure he gave him, he sensed Hux regaining control of his emotions, becoming more able to express his desires clearly and without the shame of succumbing to animal instinct.  Kylo nibbled, oh-so-gently, on the tiny nub between his lips, eliciting a sharp whine from Hux. 

He trailed his tongue back down, breathing his own hot desire into Hux’s skin, and rocked back on his knees, deftly sliding on one of the condoms that had been left for them.  He didn’t take the time to deliberate over which one, nor would he have even bothered, except that he knew Hux would be more comfortable if he did.  All he wanted in the moment was Hux’s comfort and pleasure, and he would do whatever it took to grant him that.  He grinned as the act of rolling it down over his throbbing erection translated to Hux as well; even without touching him he could please him.

Kylo doused his cock with lube, lined himself up, and pushed in slowly, relishing the sight and feel of Hux stretching around him.  Hux gasped and went still as the first ridge of the head popped in.  “Relax,” Kylo whispered, coordinating his speed to accommodate Hux’s tension.  From their shared experiences, Kylo knew that even the lower, smaller cock was still much larger than anything Hux had taken before.  The ridges that flared out from the top and sides of the shaft sent waves of pleasure up Hux’s spine as they each rubbed over his sensitive prostate.  Kylo let each languorous rise and fall wrench another moan from Hux.

The length of him fully settled into Hux’s tight heat, Kylo eased himself down beside Hux and once more took hold of his and Hux’s cocks, stroking them together while he waited for Hux to relax again and adjust to his girth. 

“Yes…” Hux’s exhalation tickled the hair behind Kylo’s ear.  He could barely get the words out between panting breaths.  “More.  Please.”

Kylo began thrusting, carefully, building up speed when he sensed Hux acclimating to his size.  They both wanted more.  The urge boiled within their blood.  It took all of Kylo’s self-control to not shove Hux over and rut him through the floor.

Hux embraced him again, clinging to his back and trying to pull him in closer.  Kylo had to let go of their cocks, much to Hux’s disappointment, but with their bodies pressed so close together, there was enough friction to keep the stimulation alive and sparking through them.

As they both neared orgasm, Kylo found it harder and harder to keep his instincts in check.  His desperate mouthing at Hux’s dainty collarbones ended in a fierce bite to the curve of where Hux’s neck met his shoulder.  Hux cried out, the whine a mix of pain and ecstasy.  His white hot desire spilled between the press of their bodies just as Kylo’s erupted inside of him, the copper taste of Hux’s blood sending him over the edge.  

After a few more twitching thrusts, Kylo released his hold on Hux’s shoulder and rolled onto his back, slowly pulling out.  He ripped the rubber off and flung it aside.  Hux followed him over, draping one arm over Kylo’s broad shoulders and resting his head on his rapidly rising and falling chest.

They both lie there, panting, for several minutes before Hux’s tongue darted out and flicked over Kylo’s nipple.  Kylo’s belly rumbled with tired laughter.  Hux had regained some control, but Kylo could still feel Hux’s raw need simmering under his sweat-slicked skin.  “You’re insatiab—ow!”  Hux bit down hard, and though his teeth were nowhere near as sharp as Kylo’s they drew blood all the same.

Kylo’s flagging erections swelled to life instantly.  He pulled Hux on top of him, close enough for their foreheads to touch, and stared into the Vulcan’s sparkling eyes.  “You still want more?”

“Yes,” Hux breathed, his tone somewhere between embarrassment and longing.

Kylo smirked and reached down to Hux’s slender waist, feeling the pounding of his pulse under his fingers as he angled Hux into position to receive him again.

Hux pressed his palm to Kylo’s chest.  “No, I want—” he bit his lip and looked away.  “I need to… to take you.”

Kylo laughed harder, bouncing Hux on top of him.  “All right, then.”  His wide lips parted in a devilish grin.  “See if you can.”

Hux arched one eyebrow and smiled.  Kylo marveled at the rare sight.  It was enough to catch him off guard.  Hux grabbed Kylo’s wrists and pushed forward, slamming them to the floor above Kylo’s head.  He buried his teeth into the meat of Kylo’s shoulder.

Lust surged through Kylo at the passionate violence.  Through their bond, he felt his own response ignite Hux’s blood as well; this was not how Vulcans behaved, but he knew that this was how Kylo liked his sex – rough and uninhibited – and he intended to please.

Kylo struggled against him, relishing the Vulcan’s strength and prowess.  He didn’t need to let him win.  The thrill chased through his veins like the adrenaline of a fight to the death.  By the time Hux wrestled him onto his hands and knees, Kylo’s cocks ached and dripped with need.  He felt Hux’s hesitation and the flash of worry that stole over him, and growled over his shoulder, “Do it! Take me!”

Hux paused only long enough to pour lube down the cleft of Kylo’s well-muscled ass and then pushed in with far less care than Kylo had shown him.  Kylo threw his head back and growled in delight.  No fuck was worth having without a fight, and no pleasure without sweet agony.

The harder and faster Hux pounded into him, the more Kylo grunted and swore.  Hux leaned over him, sliding his hands up the muscles that rippled along his sides and sinking his nails into Kylo’s chest.  “Yes,” Kylo hissed as Hux dragged his fingers down lower and lower, finally taking firm hold of Kylo’s cocks and pumping each of them in time with his thrusts. 

Even Kylo’s characteristic swears gave way to unintelligible moans as the climax built and then quickly released again. 

Kylo collapsed to the floor and Hux slumped atop him, panting over his shoulder until his cock softened enough to slip out on its own.  All the strength, and all the fire, had gone out of him.  Kylo could feel how the blessed coolness of the room soothed Hux’s tender skin.  His blood fever sated, his muscles trembled with exhaustion and his mind swirled like a whirlpool, collecting his scattered emotions and pulling them into its vortex where they could be restrained once more.  As they drained away, he felt the intimacy of the mind meld close up with them.

Gently, Kylo turned over, dropping Hux onto his side, and then moved to lie on his side, facing him. 

Hux’s eyelids drooped, but he continued to stare into Kylo’s eyes.  He wanted to say something, but was too worn out to speak.  Kylo could no longer hear his thoughts, but he felt he knew what Hux wanted to say.

The door slid open behind them.  Mechanical feet clinked and clanked, coming closer.

Kylo sighed.  He could take advantage of the Vulcan’s current weakness and the distraction his feeble fight might provide to escape and regain his honor, allowing this beautiful man — this Starfleet captain, he reminded himself — to die and be replaced amongst his crew, thus thwarting his enemies and possibly turning the tide of the whole war.  Or, he could aid in his mate’s escape attempt, perhaps ending with both of their deaths, captive and honorless, or perhaps ending up as a traitor of a different kind, in his bed aboard a Federation starship.

Looking into Hux’s eyes, into the depths of mystery that roiled like the grey-green storm clouds of Qo'noS, Kylo knew which he would choose.  If he could not go home again, he would find home there.


	5. Epilogue

The bosun’s whistle sounded, its rise and fall a familiar comfort.

“Captain on deck!”

Everyone stood as the turbolift doors slid aside and Captain Hux strolled out onto the bridge.  He inclined his head, acknowledging their respect and the barely contained happiness on their faces.  “As you were,” he said, making his way to the captain’s chair and allowing himself a tiny sigh at the relief he felt upon settling into its confines.

After the perils of captivity, a tense night in the medbay, and the weeks of debriefings and diplomatic meetings that had followed, it _did_ feel good to finally be home.

“Welcome back, Captain,” Phasma smiled.

“It is good to see you again, Number One.  I trust everything progressed smoothly under your command.”  He already knew that it had; he’d read all the reports.  Still, a bit of praise never hurt.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir,” Lieutenant Commander Dameron called from the helm, “Klingon Bird of Prey decloaking off the port bow.”

“On screen.”  Hux stood, tugging his tunic down and squaring his shoulders.  The sleek, angular vessel wavered into view

“The Klingon vessel is hailing us, sir,” Lieutenant Mitaka.

“Put it through, Lieutenant.”

Kylo, son of Organa, his image magnified across the screen as befit his larger-than-life personality, grinned and spoke, “ _qaleghqa'neS_ , Captain Hux.”

“ _qaleghqa'neS_ , Captain Kylo.”

“Sir, priority one transmission from Starfleet coming through,” Mitaka nervously interrupted.

“Share screen.”

Admiral Sloane of Starfleet and General Leia of House Organa stood side by side before a panel of admiralty from both sides of the war.  Sloane spoke, “On behalf of our esteemed guests, the representatives of the High Council, and Starfleet Command, I thank you both for taking time away from your missions to meet with us today.”

Chancellor Organa continued, “We have summoned you both, as your efforts to expose the spies within our respective commands are to be commended.  Your discovery of a common foe has led us to believe that continued aggressions between our two great cultures will no longer be necessary.  For the glory of the Klingon Empire, from this day forward, we shall be allies to the Federation. _Qapla’_!”

The Klingons, including Kylo, returned the cheer of success.

“Furthermore, to increase understanding between our two cultures,” Sloane explained, “we have agreed to an exchange of officers to serve aboard both Federation and Klingon vessels, beginning with the _USS Opportunity_.  Captain Hux, if you will permit, Captain Kylo has agreed to be the first in this exchange, as a show of good faith by House Organa.  He will report to your bridge to serve as your executive officer for the remainder of this year, after which, you will serve under his command aboard the _IKS Fek’lhr_.”

“Yes, sir,” Hux’s voice remained steady, his tone calculated to convey exactly the proper amount of respect and authority; there was _certainly_ no excitement bubbling under the surface of his reply, _nothing_ at all to conceal. “I’m certain I will find the experience most enlightening.”


End file.
